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Home  »  library  »  poem  »  The Banks o’ Doon

C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

The Banks o’ Doon

By Robert Burns (1759–1796)

YE banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon,

How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?

How can ye chant, ye little birds,

And I sae weary fu’ o’ care?

Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbling bird,

That wantons through the flowering thorn;

Thou minds me o’ departed joys,

Departed—never to return!

Oft ha’e I roved by bonnie Doon,

To see the rose and woodbine twine;

And ilka bird sang o’ its luve,

And fondly sae did I o’ mine.

Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose,

Fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree;

And my fause lover stole my rose,

But ah! he left the thorn wi’ me.